


a heart's a heavy burden

by Scarlett_Rogue



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Incubus Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Misunderstandings, Smut, chapter two contains smut, energy starvation, sex mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:54:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26426686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlett_Rogue/pseuds/Scarlett_Rogue
Summary: Two months into Jaskier's stay at Kaer Morhen he starts to get sick, only he quickly realizes it isn't a physical ailment, it's magic, and it's all Jaskier's.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 42
Kudos: 660





	1. Fear

Jaskier had been at Kaer Morhen for two months when things started to get strange. He woke up dizzy and nauseous, stumbling around the room to get clothes over his cold body. He felt hungry all the time but even the thought of food was making him sick. And his head, his damn head, felt like it was full of bees.

At first he thought it was just a cold. After all, it was certainly chilly enough in the keep to catch one easily. He wandered the halls wrapped in thick furs, sat by the fire with Lambert plastered to his side most evenings, stealing each other’s body heat. The other wolves teased them relentlessly, even Geralt, though he could see a hint of concern in the White Wolf’s eyes every now and again. But he’d had colds, and none of them felt as consuming as this. Nor did it feel like the flu; despite the dizziness and full head he was still able to move around the keep, could still eat when his stomach finally threw a fit. This was something...else.

He knew something was seriously wrong when he started getting angry for no reason. Every sound, every light, every laugh that rang out in the keep pissed him off. When Lambert tried to tease him about his hair (of all things) one morning he issued a swift “fuck off” that bit so hard it left Lambert in silence. The worst part was that Jaskier didn’t even feel bad about it. It didn’t make him feel any better, either. He felt like a powder keg, on the edge of exploding any second about the smallest of things. It wasn’t like him at all.

“I don’t feel so good,” Jaskier finally got up the courage to say one morning as he hobbled down to join the wolves hours after they’d woken up. The truth was, he didn’t want to bother them with his human problems. He didn’t want Geralt to regret bringing him here. 

“I noticed,” Geralt said. It was Eskel that approached him and gently touched Jaskier’s forehead with the back of his hand. He hummed and cocked his head a little.

“You have a low grade fever, that’s for sure. Maybe you should still be in bed.”

Jaskier nodded. Bed sounded good. He had forced himself to get up this morning - though he suspected it wasn’t actually morning anymore - but if he’d had his way he would have stayed in bed all day. His head felt heavy all of a sudden and he swayed in place. He felt an arm on him a moment later and he was aware he was moving, practically being dragged up to his room.

“I’ll bring you food later,” came Geralt’s voice. His vision faded in and out but he forced himself to keep his eyes on the man, who was now visibly worried. Before he knew it they were in his room and Geralt was positioning him in bed. “How do you feel?”

“Hungry.”

Geralt smiled slightly. “I’m sure. I can get you some food now-”

“No.” It came out somewhere between a whine and a growl, and Jaskier had the good sense to look embarrassed. Geralt nodded slowly, eyes full of confusion. 

“Okay, when you wake up then.” He looked down and grabbed Jaskier’s hand. “Take these off, it can’t be comfortable.” And then he was slipping Jaskier’s rings off his finger one at a time. He got to the last one on his left hand, iridescent pink and blue, a remnant of his childhood, and clamped his finger down hard.

“I never take that one off,” he said coldly. Thankfully Geralt didn’t push him on it; he squeezed his hand and placed it back on the bed. 

“Okay. Sleep well. I’ll be back later.”

Jaskier closed his eyes and felt the heavy weight of sleep consume him. Before he succumbed, he thought back to his ring. His mother gifted it to him when he was eight, maybe nine - he no longer knew how long he’d had it, but he never once took it off. It grew with him as his mother promised, by merit of the magic whirling inside it. _‘It’ll keep you safe from those who wish to hurt you,’_ she’d said. She never clarified beyond that and after a while he stopped asking. The few times he thought about taking it off he felt the strong pull of magic and thought he’d better not.

Now he grabbed the ring and pulled. It slipped off with surprisingly little resistance. He placed it on the night stand with his other rings, turned onto his side, and let sleep take him. 

\---

When he finally woke again it was night and Geralt was sitting on the edge of the bed with a bowl in his hands. Jaskier felt like he was using all the strength in him just to sit up, his eyes taking a minute to focus. The room was dim, a small fire lit in the fireplace. He zeroed in on Geralt and squinted.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” It’s not his fault the question came out aggressive and demanding; he’d tried for gentle and his brain told him to fuck right off with that. 

“Eat,” he ordered. Jaskier’s stomach turned. He hadn’t eaten anything since last night, and even then he’d only had a small scoop of stew. Food sounded like a bad idea, and yet he felt famished. Still, he took the bowl and, under Geralt’s watchful eyes, ate a few spoonfuls. He held the bowl out to Geralt when he felt his stomach couldn’t take anymore and Geralt took it without a fight, placing it back on the table.

“You took your ring off,” he noted.

“Yeah, I figured I’d worn it since I was a kid and it was time to free my finger, so to speak.”

“Hmm.” He stood up quickly and headed for the door. “I need to speak with Eskel and Lambert for a moment. Try to get some more food in you if you can.”

Jaskier waited patiently for Geralt to return, confused but too tired to worry about it. When he heard multiple footsteps down the hall he sighed. He really wasn’t in the mood to talk to people right now.

“Holy shit, you really weren’t kidding.” Jaskier looked up to where Lambert was entering the room, followed closely by Eskel and Geralt. Geralt growled a warning at him and he laughed. “Sorry, but I definitely thought you were making shit up.”

“Stop talking,” Eskel said. He came closer to Jaskier and sat at the end of the bed. “This is...certainly new.”

Jaskier was only getting more confused by the minute. Him eating soup was new? Being in bed? Being sick? Of fucking course it was new, he hadn’t been sick his whole time here. 

“What’s new?” He snapped. Lambert chuckled again.

“Guess we know why he’s been in such a shit mood.”

“Lambert, I swear on my sword I will snap you in half.” Geralt grabbed a hand mirror and brought it to Jaskier. “Don’t...ah, just don’t freak out okay?”

Jaskier snatched the mirror from Geralt and _oh_ , that _was_ new. That was very new. He touched his forehead where Eskel had touched him just this afternoon. Instead of a nearly flat surface he was met with two horns that curled up and around his head, close to his hairline, and flicked up at the ends. 

Fucking _horns_.

“What. The fuck.”

“Oh no, he’s freaking out,” Eskel said under his breath. Geralt groaned and shook his head.

“Why did I bother to bring you two up here? You’re making it worse.”

“ _Geralt._ ”

Jaskier’s voice shook. Fear bubbled up and over; he was sure the wolves could smell it in the air. He looked at them through brand new eyes. He was...he was a monster, for fuck’s sake, something these men hunted for a living. What were they going to do with him? None of them had their swords, but he knew even in the keep they all kept small daggers on them just in case something happened. And now that something was Jaskier. A monster.

“It’s okay.” Geralt sat next to him, ignoring the way he flinched from the proximity, the way it made Geralt’s heart ache. “I know it’s new, and scary, but you’re okay. You’re safe.”

“But I- I’m a monster, Geralt. How did this happen to me?”

Geralt glanced over at the night table and picked up the iridescent ring. It looked so small in his big hands, looked so small now that it wasn’t on Jaskier’s finger anymore.

“Tell me about this ring.”

“My mother gave it to me. Said it would protect me from people who might hurt me. She made me promise never to take it off, and I haven’t until now.”

“It’s a glamour, isn’t it?” Lambert asked. Geralt nodded.

“Yes, it’s a glamour. Your mother clearly knew your horns would come in eventually and wanted to keep you safe from humans.”

“But what am I if not human?”

“Lemme smell him,” Eskel piped up. Jaskier’s eyes widened. “I have the best sense of smell and you know it.”

To Jaskier’s surprise Geralt moved from his place on the bed and was replaced by Eskel, who smiled sheepishly at him.

“Is this okay with you,” he asked. 

Jaskier nodded, a bit shaky and uncertain, but sure that he wanted to know the truth. He’d spent over forty years in the dark. No more. Eskel leaned over, pressing his face into Jaskier’s neck, and breathed in deeply. Jaskier’s eyes closed and he had to bite back the moan that threatened to break free. Hunger roared it’s head and he felt light-headed in a good way this time. He was ashamed when he felt lust creeping up on him. Eskel was certainly beautiful, but he wasn’t the one Jaskier had been pining over all these years.

Eskel and Lambert chuckled in unison and Jaskier blushed, certain they smelled his lust. If they could smell it so could Geralt, and he didn’t want to know what the White Wolf thought about that.

“It’s okay,” Eskel said as he pulled away. “It’s perfectly normal.”

Geralt chimed in. “Is he a-”

“Without a doubt.”

“Will you two stop speaking in code and tell me what the hell I am?!” Eskel and Lambert nodded to Geralt, inviting him to take the reins. He switched spots with Eskel and, to Jaskier’s great surprise, took his hand.

“You’re an Incubus. Half, most likely. I’m guessing your biological father was full Incubus.”

“Huh. That would explain why my father fucking hates me I guess.”

Geralt frowned at that, his eyes flashing with something close to anger. He shook his head and continued.”I’m not surprised this is just hitting you now. Your ring kept your physical traits glamoured and prevented our medallions from sensing you, and you’ve been... _very_ sexual since you were a teenager, I assume. You’ve never gone this long without having sex, have you?” Jaskier shook his head. “Do you feel a hunger that food won’t satisfy?” A nod this time. “That’s because you’ve been starving for energy, an energy you can only get through sexual acts.”

“Okay, I guess I’m with you.” He wasn’t really with him; part of him wanted to laugh in Geralt’s face, tell him, tell them all, that they’d lost their minds, and go back to sleep. Surely when he woke up the horns would be gone and everything would be back to normal. “What do I do about it?”

Silence. Eskel shuffled awkwardly, Lambert grinned, and Geralt glanced down. Jaskier’s eyes must have been deceiving him, because the man looked shy. 

“You need to have sex,” he said simply.


	2. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt offers to help Jaskier, and our dumb boys think their feelings aren't requited.

“Right, and who’d want to fuck me? Any takers? Because I’m pretty sure this will create an awkward situation no matter who it is.” He was vaguely aware of Eskel and Lambert nudging each other and grinning. Geralt wasn’t smiling. He still held that shy, almost embarrassed expression, and when he spoke his voice was unexpectedly soft.

“I mean, you can have me.” When he was met with silence Geralt rushed on, his words fumbling so quickly into each other that Jaskier had to strain to keep up. “You don’t have to if you don’t want - it’s just- never mind, forget I said anything.”

“I want to.”

That fire roared in him again as he thought about touching Geralt for real this time, no more late night fantasies of wondering what it would be like to strip him slowly, run his fingers over his scars, touch him in places that would make the other man gasp his name. He could really have this now. His blood felt like it was boiling for it. He wondered if this reaction was normal for an Incubus, or if this was just about Geralt. 

“Okay,” Geralt said softly. He jerked his head around to his brothers. “Out. Now.”

“Have fun,” Lambert sang. The two left. When the door closed Jaskier was met with the reality of the situation. He was going to have sex with Geralt. And maybe afterward things would be fine, maybe Geralt would go back to treating him like the annoying bard who had wormed his way into Geralt’s life, his friend alone. Or maybe he wouldn’t; maybe he wouldn’t be able to look at Jaskier without regret. 

“Geralt, if we do this I need to know that things won’t change between us. That you won’t...you won’t hate me for this.”

Geralt placed a hand on his cheek, his eyes serious. “I will never regret anything I do with you, Jaskier. You’re important to me. I want you to be okay, and you haven’t been. Let me help you fix that.”

With that he captured Jaskier’s lips in his own. Jaskier moaned into the kiss - he couldn’t stop himself from reaching up and tangling his fingers in Geralt’s hair. He tugged ever so gently and Geralt groaned, tipping his head back to expose his neck. Jaskier took that as an invitation to latch his mouth onto Geralt’s neck, to suck and bite to his heart’s content. He knew the bruises would fade quickly - too fast for his liking - and yet he still felt a sense of pride as he marked him. Maybe Geralt would never want to be his lover, but for one night he could mark the man, own his body in a way he’d always dreamed about, and pretend. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt gasped. It was better than his fantasies. 

“You like this don’t you?” Geralt nodded, his mouth hung open as he breathed quickly. “You want me to touch you, Witcher?”

“Yes, _please_.”

Jaskier wasn’t sure what came over him, but he grabbed at Geralt’s shirt and swiftly tugged him, flipping them over so they were laying with Jaskier on top of Geralt, his legs splayed around the man’s hips. He grinded down and groaned as he felt Geralt’s cock rub against his through too much fabric. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he purred. “So lovely underneath me. I’m going to take you apart piece by piece, love.” And oh, he did not mean for that word to slip out. He may have regretted it if not for the fact that Geralt’s eyes darkened and he ran his nails up Jaskier’s thighs.

“You’re wearing too much,” he gasped out. Jaskier chuckled, took the buttons of the man’s shirt in hand. 

“I’m afraid it’s you who is wearing too much.”

Jaskier made quick work of Geralt’s clothing. First the shirt, then crawling down his body to work his pants and underclothes off. He’d seen Geralt naked plenty of times but this felt different. He could touch him now, taste him, devour him if he pleased. And he did.

Eyes firmly locked on Geralt’s, he rested between his thighs and placed a kiss to his cock, watched in fascination as it jerked at the touch. He was big, so much bigger than Jaskier was used to, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his lips around that beautiful cock and worship him with his mouth. He felt strong in a way he hadn’t for weeks, already feeding off Geralt’s arousal. He licked at Geralt’s cock slowly, teasingly, working the man up until he was gasping and pulling at his own hair. The sight drove him crazy. He took the head in his mouth and sucked softly at first, his tongue flicking over the hole. He was rewarded with beads of pre-cum, the taste consuming.

His brain wasn’t thinking straight, wasn’t concerned with anything but bringing Geralt off again and again. He took him down swiftly, his mouth almost too small for the man, but he was nothing if not determined and lust-adled enough to work for it. Geralt filled him so beautifully, and he worked his tongue over thick veins, whining as he hit his throat. Could he…? The answer was yes, as he pressed down a little further and felt Geralt slip into his throat every so slightly.

“Fuck!” Geralt pressed his hips into the mattress, doing everything in his power to stop himself from thrusting into Jaskier’s mouth. Everything felt so tight, so perfect, so overwhelming. His senses could feel the pull of magic in the air, the weight that settled into his head that was distinctly Jaskier. Unfamiliar, and yet he felt like he’d known it all his life.

Jaskier pulled out a little, gasping for a breath he soon realized he didn’t actually need. He was made for this, made for taking everything he could and being so full of energy. He could smell Geralt’s power in the air. He pulled off completely with a pop and grinned at him.

“So good for me. Will you be a good boy for me?” It almost felt wrong speaking to the witcher in such a way, but the words were tumbling out before he could stop himself and Geralt was panting, eyes dark and fluttering.

“Yes, anything for you.”

“Anything?” He rubbed his hand down over Geralt’s balls, tugging slightly, and watched the man’s hips grind into his with glee. “I want you, all of you. Can you give that to me?” 

“P-please,” he stuttered. “You can have me, always.”

Jaskier knew he didn’t mean it. As soon as the haze of magic wore off Geralt would be back to grunting and hmm-ing at him. He would probably barely look him in the eyes. But he promised, Jaskier reminded himself. At least he would still have his friendship when all was said and done.

“I intend to.”

He dragged himself up, disappointed by the lack of contact but determined to get what he wanted. Geralt whined and made a grab for him. Oh, but he wanted him so _bad_ and Jaskier ate it up.

“Hold that thought, dear heart.”

He hopped over to his bag and pulled out the little vial of oil that he had been rationing for his winter stay. He climbed back between Geralt’s thighs and held the vial out, making it clear what he was asking to do. Geralt sucked a breath in and nodded quickly. Jaskier smiled and wasted no time taking Geralt back into his mouth, the taste intoxicating. He bobbed his head up and down, relished in the desperate noises coming from the man. He quickly coated a finger in oil and rubbed it gently over the man’s hole. Geralt shuddered and pushed his hips down, seeking that irresistible contact.

He pushed gently and his finger slipped in with little resistance. He melted with the soft ‘oh fuck’ that escaped from Geralt’s mouth. He glanced up and took in the sight, practically (maybe literally) eating it up. His head tipped back, eyes fluttering, one hand tugging at his hair, the other skirting down his chest, down, down to Jaskier. He hesitantly touched one of Jaskier’s horns and Jaskier groaned like he’d been punched in the gut with arousal. He tipped his head, took more of the man in his mouth, and pushed his head into Geralt’s hand. He took the hint and wrapped his fingers around Jaskier’s horn, pulled him down further onto his cock.

Jaskier should have been gagging but he didn’t, couldn’t. He breathed through his nose but it felt unnecessary. As he bobbed his head he pressed another finger against Geralt’s hole and moaned as his body sucked it in without a hitch, joining the other finger to rub against his sensitive walls. He curls his fingers just so and Geralt shouted, his voice ringing out through the walls.

And Jaskier consumed it like he was parched for it. In a way he was, had known he would be missing out for several months when he agreed to come to Kaer Morhen, knew it would be worth it to be by Geralt’s side through the winter. Now it was worth it for an entirely different reason. 

He pulled off Geralt’s cock and blew cool air onto him, watched the way his body shook. 

“You love this, don’t you? You love the way my mouth feels wrapped around your cock, love my fingers splitting you open. I bet you’d be so good for me, climb into my lap and bounce on my cock like a good boy.” He grinned, licked the head of Geralt’s swollen cock. “Tell me what you want, love.”

“I- oh gods, fuck- I want you forever. I love-”

Geralt’s eyes snapped open and his body froze up, his legs closing reflexively. Jasker sat up, withdrew his fingers carefully, eyes wide, heart aching. No, he couldn’t get his hopes up, he couldn’t hurt himself like that.

“You love...what, Geralt?”

Geralt shook his head, covered his face with his hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean- that wasn’t supposed to come out. I know this is just sex for you.”

Jaskier reached up and pulled Geralt’s hand away from his face. He was surprised to see the blush covering his cheeks, hurt to see the regret in his eyes.

“Geralt,” he started softly. “This was never just about sex for me. You have to know by now how I feel about you. It’s been years...please tell me you know.”

He watched the shift in Geralt’s face, the openness and, dare he say, love that filled his eyes. His body relaxed as he sat up. He looked hopeful and uncertain at once..

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Now please, I beg of you, finish that sentence.”

He took a deep breath; it washed over Jaskier’s face and he could feel the shift in energy, the spark that sent his blood racing.

“I love you.” Geralt said. “And I’m yours, however long you want me.”

Jaskier smiled wide, mischievous. “Then I think I’ll keep you forever, love.”

He pressed his hands to Geralt’s chest and the man took the hint, falling back onto the bed. He let his legs fall open with him. Jaskier ate the sight up, the flush on his chest, the way his cock, having softened just a little, began to fill again. He fell back down and took the man into his mouth once more, gliding two fingers back into his hole. This time he felt the love in the air and knew it was real and all for him. He pulled away just long enough to speak his desires.

“Fuck, I want to eat you up, darling. I want to consume you, all of you.” 

Geralt groaned and arched as Jaskier worked his fingers in faster, bent them to rub at that spot in him that set his body ablaze.

“Yes, yes please, I need it. I need you!”

Jaskier smirked and pressed a third finger in. Geralt tightened around him but quickly relaxed into it. He grabbed at Jaskier’s horns again and hauled him back on his cock. Jaskier groaned, greedy for the way Geralt was tensing up. The man was whining now, loud and strained, his breathing fast and his heart racing toward a glorious finish.

Jaskier pressed three fingers against the spot and rubbed mercilessly, took Geralt deep into his throat, and that’s all it took. Geralt practically wailed as he gripped Jaskier’s horns tight and shot down his throat. Jaskier ground his hips into the bed and felt his own orgasm hit him like a storm - he’d had no idea he was so close just from pleasuring Geralt. Jaskier swallowed around him. He felt full; he felt powerful. 

When Geralt’s body slammed back into the bed he removed his fingers slowly and slid off his cock, licking his lips. He got up silently and grabbed a rag, cleaning the oil off Geralt’s skin and his fingers. The man was oddly still. He threw the rag aside and climbed onto the bed next to him, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s chest and pulling him close.

“Fuck,” Geralt muttered. He wiped at his face quickly and only then did Jaskier see the tears in his eyes.

“Hey, are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Geralt smiled through his tears. “I’ll admit this has never happened before. But it feels good. I feel good.”

“I’m glad.” Jaskier pressed a kiss to his tear-stained cheek and held him close.

He had no intention of ever letting him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you got this far pretty please consider adding a comment! It would mean a lot to me, especially on a hard day like today.

**Author's Note:**

> This is part one of a two part fic. The second chapter WILL contain copious amounts of smut and I'll make sure I update the tags when that happens, but just be warned. As always, please comment and let me know your thoughts, I haven't written like this in a while!


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